I would do anything for love
by SassyJ
Summary: AU. Jo finds herself and Stuart in danger as a past love comes back to haunt her.... Rated M for explicit erotic/sexual content..... and violence...
1. Rope Marks

For D

* * *

_Sometimes going all the way_

_Is just the start_

Stuart lay on his front and tried to work out how he was going to get out of this one. It didn't help that he'd literally walked into the trap. They'd been waiting for him. He wished he had asked Jo to come with him, but he really wasn't sure about what he thought he'd seen, and it was supposed to be only a quick look.

At least Jo would be worried by now and looking for him.

He shifted slightly, trying to process it all in his head. He'd been so concentrated on looking for that photograph that he'd seen, he'd let them get the drop on him. He'd felt the cold metal press into the back of his neck. Stu was brave but not stupid, the gun moved into his view long enough that he knew he didn't have much of a chance as a calm female voice explained that she was very sorry but he'd blundered in and they needed to put him out of commission for a while. A pair of hands appeared in his field of view with some kind of stretched cloth between them, instinctively he ducked his head back, and closed his eyes. The material was pulled across his face and wrapped firmly around his head, pinning his eyes closed, the blindfold was very effective. They then used his own cuffs to secure his hands behind his back and hustled him out of a door, into some kind of vehicle.

He had no idea how long they'd driven for, but they arrived somewhere, hustled him out, up and down some steps, over some kind of board bridge, he thought. He could hear water. He was pushed down some narrow stairs. They'd removed the cuffs and his jacket, then they'd proceeded to truss him up like an ovenready turkey.

His arms were pulled behind his back, palm to elbow, rope went round each shoulder, then down securing his arms in position with the rope wrapped firmly round at mid forearm, rope going around his upper arms trapping them firmly against his body. By the time she was finished, he could move his fingers and that was it. He strained to reach upwards hoping to find an end to the rope that bound him, and he heard the satisfaction in her voice as she informed him that all the knots were well out of reach of his fingers. And that the rope was attached to a ring well above his head, so he wouldn't be going anywhere.

Two pairs of hands guided him to lie down on something that was probably a bed. They'd left him some water, so he wouldn't get dehydrated, and she apologised for it all being rather awkward and uncomfortable for him, but the blindfold had to stay on. Someone would come, she wasn't planning on hurting him, in fact she needed to avoid doing that, so they would tell the station where he was. Gentle hands guided his head so that he could find the tube to drink from. Then they left him.

He tried wriggling. He tried to reach up with his bound arms, his fingers straining to twist round. Not a chance. He was bound and blindfolded just waiting for something to happen.

He tried to relax, his shoulders ached a bit with his arms pinned behind him, but the grip of the ropes on his skin and around his body were surprisingly comfortable. He couldn't move, and he couldn't free himself, but he wasn't in severe discomfort. Whoever had just tied him was obviously an expert.

He drifted, his thoughts becoming slowly more jumbled. He couldn't seem to get past the feeling of the ropes gripping his body, of helplessness, of memories that kept rising to the surface, memories were stirring his emotions, he became aware that he badly needed to take care of business, he was becoming aroused by the memory of another time and place, a pair of hands, a woman's hands. He moved, his need was becoming stronger, and the fact that he could do nothing about it made him feel more aroused. He turned on his side, bringing his knees up slightly, he was now far past desperate.

Hours passed, he couldn't tell it was day or night, he was blind and helpless and his entire body was screaming with need. Need for a woman who would never return that feeling.

"Well, that's another fine mess you've got yourself into."

He turned his head, he couldn't see her, but he knew she was there. Hands stripped away the blindfold. And he blinked, looking up at her. Jo's eyes were looking down, and he felt the heat rising in his cheeks, as she smiled. There were times when he wondered if she knew. Knew that he would do anything for love. That she was as necessary to him as breathing. That sometimes that need for her gripped him like the ropes pinning his arms.

She helped him sit up and unfastened the rope end from the ring in the ceiling. He looked around him, realising he was on a boat. He was so busy taking in his surroundings in attempt to control his emotions, he didn't realise she was talking to him.

"Earth to Stu...Turn round, or do you want to stay like that."

"No, of course not." Even though he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks manifesting his confusion, once again, some wicked corner of his soul was actually enjoying the sensation of being tied, for a second he wondered if he'd reached a stage of desperation that merited professional attention. _I would do anything for love... but I won't do that..._ It was as though someone had spoken, he turned his head, looking at Jo... _I would do anything for you..._ He dragged himself back to the present. Dreaming about what he could never have was making him crazy. The rational part of him knew he should put in for another transfer, away, far away. The emotional part of him couldn't bear it. If he didn't get his near daily dose of Jo, he would die.

He shifted around, awkwardly, and Jo sat on the bed behind him. Her fingers traced the bindings pinning his arms. _Shibari_, she hadn't seen that in a long time, not since Tess had introduced her to it years ago. For a moment she wondered about the person who had tied him. The black rope, the contrast with Stu's exotic dusky skin, and his white shirt, surely the person doing the tying knew the effect. They'd used black vet wrap to blindfold him, surely a coincidence, but taken with the black rope and the way he'd been tied, it all seemed too much of one. None of it was a coincidence, it was the clue to what was going on.

Stu felt strangely disappointed as the ropes loosened and his hands were freed.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, did you find anything, but the trouble you got yourself into?"

"They jumped me before I could."

"They?"

"Two of them."

"Height, weight, sex?"

"Female... tallish... white."

"Oh great... so you didn't see either of them."

"Errr... no." he blushed. "they blindfolded me before I could."

"Stu!"

"They had a gun." He shivered slightly, in spite of his natural instinct for bravado, proving to the world that he was a tough guy, the gun had unnerved him somewhat.

She turned to face him, his eyes looked down, she put an arm round his neck and hugged him. _Damn..._

His arm slid round her waist and hugged her to him. Every fibre of his being wanted to hold her close forever.

Something about the entire incident was tugging at her mind...

_Mind games... that's what this is ... mind games... so who's the target... Me? or Stu?_

Jo looked sideways at her partner. It was entirely possible that Stu had got himself into a mess. Sometimes he got carried away with his own invincibility. The results were inevitably a panic situation in which Stu frantically tried to dig himself out of whatever crisis he had managed to precipitate. He'd mellowed, but there was still something of the cocky glory boy in Stu. This wasn't down to him.

This time... this time was different. Something was teasing at the edges of Jo's memory, she had the feeling that she was the target, that Stu was the pawn in a game that was being played. _But what's the game? Controlling the game, that's the key? This was a set up. That's why the call came through to me._

If she didn't get a handle on this and find the key quickly, she could sense danger for both her and her partner. Someone was after them, and they would hurt Stu to get to her. She couldn't even explain how she knew any of this. Put on paper, it would seem mad, fantastical, impossible. No one would believe it.


	2. Consequences?

Back at the station, Jo tried to get her thoughts in some kind of rational order. Stu was fine, unharmed, and she had nothing to go on, but a feeling. Jack Meadows heard them both out in silence, and then insisted that Stu get himself checked out by the FME. Stu grumpily complied.

Jo sat down at her desk. _One report coming up, free from all speculation, imagination and anything else fanciful The facts. No more, no less._

* * *

Stu leaned on the sink in the Gents, and stared at himself in the mirror. It was getting worse this feeling. He ran some cold water into the sink and splashed some on his burning cheeks. _You can't run away forever... but there's nothing wrong with getting a good head start._ He raked his wet hands through his short spiky black hair, making it even more unruly. Rather like the turmoil going on in his head. He couldn't control this for much longer. Best get his transfer request in before he made himself into a completely contemptible idiot, and everyone lost what respect they had for him.

At first he thought it was just because it was Jo, and she was the one person who'd bothered to look behind his carefully constructed distancing act. Or maybe it was because she was the kind of person who needed everyone to love them, and he was just caught up in that. But none of that was true. He'd let his guard down, she'd seen inside, she'd seen that he was lonely, she'd seen his need. But she hadn't exploited it. She'd given him an out, a trapdoor through which he could escape, his front intact.

Each time they worked together there was something, an incident of shared experience, which drew them closer together. He was her sergeant, but he felt junior to Jo, he should have felt resentful, but instead he felt grateful... no... more than grateful. He turned away from the sink, and the mirror, and leaned back against the wall, raking his damp hands through his hair again... it wasn't gratitude he felt for Jo, and it wasn't just about sex. He'd been so busy trying to armour plate himself against feeling too much, _so busy trying to maintain some distance_, he smiled humourlessly, that he hadn't noticed that she'd already sneaked into a corner of his heart.

_But Stuart Turner doesn't have a heart, he's a Detective Sergeant, a good time party boy who is in it to climb the career ladder, personal relationships inside work are doomed, if you can't maintain some distance what have you got..._ He raked his hands through his hair again, squeezing them hard against his temples as though he could crush out the thoughts that were starting to consume him. He was in love with Joanne Masters. She would never see him that way. He was breaking his heart over a woman that he could never have, but the splash of his hot tears running down his face came as a surprise.

He couldn't chance one of the others seeing him like this. He moved into one of the stalls, and shut the door. Put the seat down on the loo, sat on it, put his head in his hands and cried his heart out. It all converged at once, everything that had been building, there was an enormous tight lump at the back of his throat, and he just fell apart.

* * *

Terry Perkins pushed the Gents' door open. And was just heading for the urinals, when he heard the sounds of someone's distress. Whoever it was, this was something clearly very painful. Terry hovered for a second, uncertain whether he should knock on the shut toilet door and enquire if he could help, or whether whoever it was would prefer to be left alone. He withdrew discreetly.

* * *

Jo typed slowly. Sometimes going back over what she had written. Changing it. Refining and re-defining it. She had to get someone to believe. None of what had happened since Stu had decided to go back for a second look at a photograph on a shelf had been a coincidence. _Perhaps the photograph was no coincidence either. Perhaps it was a plant._ It might not have been coincidence. But it was certainly nothing she could definitely put her finger on.

She stopped typing for a moment, running backwards through the events of the day. It was nearly the end of the shift and she still didn't have any leads or answers.

Stu slowly calmed down. He had to get a grip. Whatever happened in the future, here and now he and Jo were caught up in something. She needed him to hold himself together. He dried his face, and struggled to order his breathing which was still coming in heaving snatches. He steadied his nerve, Jo needed him and he was going to come through for her. He straightened himself up. He splashed cold water on his face, rumpled his hair up, straightening himself out. He squared his shoulders and looked at himself in the mirror, he would just about pass muster without inspiring any comment, his eyes looked a little bloodshot, but that could be put down to what he'd just been through. He headed back to CID.

Jo looked up as the swing door opened and Stuart made his way back to his desk. "Where have you been?" She said as he passed and slipped into his seat next to her.

"Just visiting the bathroom." He didn't quite meet her eyes, and Jo sighed. There was more to it than that. His eyes looked a bit blood shot, and his long black lashes were stuck together in spiky clumps, something wasn't right, his body language and expression screamed distress. Yet he hadn't been particularly distressed when she'd found him.

Jo dragged her mind back to their present problem. Speculating on what was up with Stu emotionally would not solve their riddle and she had a very bad feeling about it. Hours of work, with absolutely nothing to show for it. The empty house, the photograph that had caught Stu's eye, the fact that the house had been shut up for over six months. There was nothing about the location, yet... Jo almost put her head in her hands and howled with frustration. There was something there, what had happened when Stu had gone back to the house proved it. But what exactly was going on. This was supposed to be a routine hit and run. The victim was alive, several broken bones, but alive nonetheless. The car had led to the house, which had led to the photograph, which had led to Stu being kidnapped, which...

None of the above made sense. It was like an endless game of consequences...

_Consequences..._

That struck a chord... _But why._

She looked across at her partner, he was slumped sideways in his seat, one elbow hooked over the back, the way he often did, but something told her this was a studied attempt at casual.

"We need to put our heads together, go back over our files."

He turned his head to look at her, his expression sombre. "Why?"

"Because it's something we've both worked on. I know it."

He hesitated. "Okay... I believe you. Go on?"

"Some thing we've been involved in, someone we've overlooked."


	3. Vanishing Trick

Jo opened her front door, and stepped inside the cool dimness of her hallway. It had been a long day... and the day before had been a long day. She had wracked her brains for two days straight, but still had nothing, she and Stu had been backwards and forwards through everything. They'd dug back through their closed files, Stu had rung round to see if anyone was out of prison that either he or she should know about.

As she pushed her door closed behind her, she had a feeling. A bad one. She couldn't put a finger on it, it was elusive, a nameless dread. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her mobile. There was only one number in her head, her thumb keyed the speed dial. He answered on the first ring. As she knew he would. They were so attuned they hardly needed words anymore.

"Stu."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

"You don't know what it is."

"You rang. I don't need to."

She smiled, and rang off. He knew her so well. There was something in her relationship with her cocky sergeant, a warmth, a depth of feeling, a mutual understanding, that she just didn't get with anyone else. _Even Tess_.

That name. It hung in the air, as though she had spoken it aloud. _That's twice in two days that I've thought about that name_. In her mind's eye, she could still see the scene as she cautiously boarded the boat on the Thames, Stu, helpless, bound and blindfolded, awaiting his fate. There was something there. Something about the way he'd been left. The clue was in the question. _But what's the question?_

She pressed her temples with the heels of her hands as though trying to massage her tired brain into action.

There was a knock at the door, and she yanked it open, feeling slightly embarrassed that she was still standing there in the hallway. He was as good as his word, five minutes he said, and he was there. His flat was only a five minute drive from her home, so he must have been stood in his own hallway.

"What's up?" he smiled, trying to be encouraging, suddenly, she felt afraid, she looked up into his face and her lower lip trembled. Without another word, he stepped forward and swept her into his arms, hugging her close. She wrapped her arms round his neck. They didn't need words, they just understood each other.

She took a deep breath and eased back a bit. "What's up? I don't know." he frowned, her response to his arrival suggested something... "Stu, I'm starting to wonder if I'm losing my mind, but someone's been here!"

He frowned again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He took her at her word. He'd learned a long time ago to listen to Jo's hunches... they'd even saved his life once or twice. He took her wrist and tugged her close again. "Get what you need. You're coming home with me." She looked up into his face again, and nodded slowly... suddenly she didn't want to be alone.

He followed her to the bathroom to collect her toothbrush, and then to the bedroom to collect some clothes, he was taking no chances. Nothing had been right since they'd been drawn into this case, he was starting to wonder if he was losing his mind, never mind Jo losing hers. Someone was doing a number on them.

Jo curled her legs up and cuddled into his sofa, clutching the mug of tea with both hands. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were now being driven, dancing to someone else's tune and this was going to end badly. Stu was rummaging around in his kitchen, she shuddered slightly, Stu's culinary skills were a bit scary. He did his best, but somehow he just really didn't get the whole cooking thing. He normally made do with what he could zap in the microwave. He reappeared with two plates piled high. And an anxious expression on his face. She took the offered plate and picked up the knife and fork he had handed to her earlier.

"Mmmm this tastes good." she was surprised, she meant it, and was rewarded by a relieved smile from Stu. _Oh hun.. _ she sighed inwardly. He was such a contradiction at times. He was cocky, clever, intuitive and fearless, but he was also surprisingly vulnerable, he hurt easily, and when hurt he tended to lash out in confusion. He didn't mean to, it was a kind of a defense mechanism, the counter point to that was that he was surprisingly easily pleased by little things like her telling him what he had just cooked was actually quite nice. Little insights to his character which even now still had the power to surprise her, and his vulnerability tugged very hard at her heartstrings.

She tucked in, and for a while they ate in companionable silence, unwinding from the stresses of the day. But the nameless dread still hung between them, and as she finished her plateful, she had a sudden need to move closer to Stu. His arm went round her and they hugged fiercely. It was getting to both of them, the uncertainty.

* * *

Jo went through all her old files again, without a great deal of hope. They seemed trapped in some sort of timetable about which she knew nothing. And they were unable to get a handle on it. Neil Manson was concerned, but unable to get a better grasp of what was going on than Stu and Jo were. After a day of frustration she looked up from her desk, "Stu..." he looked up at her, there was still a light of something in his eyes, but she had enough to work on without trying to deal with her partner's emotions too, "Pub?"

He nodded. He needed a drink. All day, working on thin air, grabbing at straws and chasing ghosts was getting to him. As was the feeling that he could no longer control. He loved Joanne Masters.

She grabbed her jacket and he followed her out. The Seven Bells was the favoured watering hole, and as usual it was noisy and crowded with most of the relief. A few people hailed them as they entered and they headed over to where most of CID were celebrating the conclusion of a very nasty armed robbery.

"Gin and tonic? or a pint of lager?" Stu looked sideways at his partner, as she slid into a seat next to Terry.

"A pint for me, please Stu." Jo looked up at him, he looked tired and she couldn't help worrying a little about him.

"And me..." Terry passed over a glass, "and while you're at it!"

"Drinks are on DS Turner." several war whoops and comments about letting the moths out of his wallet. Stu sighed. He'd wanted a quiet drink with Jo and then home, but it wasn't to be. He headed over to the bar, and waited his turn.

Stu gathered the drinks on a tray. _Too many..._ he would have to leave one behind. His. He took a sip from his pint and put it back on the bar, picked up the tray and carried it over to the table. He never noticed the figure at the end of the bar, but that was no surprise. He was tired and strung out.

As the evening wore on, and the drink flowed, Stu felt progressively more tired and slightly dizzy. He wondered if he was coming down with something other than the malaise that was affecting his judgement, his love for Jo. He pushed himself to his feet, and caught hold of the back of the booth as the room swayed. He blinked, everything seemed a little blurred. Jo looked up at him, concerned.

"You alright hun?"

"I feel a bit dizzy, must be the stuffy atmosphere." He pushed himself upright, "I'll walk home, the fresh air will do me good."

"Are you sure?" Jo was quite worried, he didn't seem his normal cocksure self.

"Quite sure." he put his tired legs in motion towards the exit, feeling more sick and dizzy with every step he took.

"Stu!" Jo caught up with him in the doorway. "Are you sure you're alright?"

He nodded, even though if truth be told he couldn't remember a time he'd felt this bad. "I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

She looked into his warm brown eyes, something indefinable in their depths, and impulsively she put her arms round his neck, kissing him gently on the cheek. "Take care hun, see you tomorrow." He hugged her gently to him, Jo was infinitely precious in his eyes; and then he pushed the door open and headed out into the night. Jo stood and watched him go. He didn't look too steady on his feet as he went, but she put that down to tiredness and alcohol.

The night air did not clear his head as Stu hoped it would. It was as though shadows were closing in around him. He found it increasingly difficult to walk straight and was relieved when he reached his front door. He fished in his pocket for his keys, and picked out his front door key with difficulty. He looked up at the lock,but there were five of them, his hand went out hesitantly towards his own front door, as his legs folded up beneath him and he subsided into a comatose heap on the floor.

Two figures moved in behind him, "I didn't think he would last this long!" the smaller of the two figures whispered. "It doesn't matter... Detective Sergeant Turner is now our guest." the taller replied. Together they lifted him, not without a struggle, and dumped his comatose body into a large laundry basket, wheeling him out to the large van parked outside. A few minutes work, and Stuart Turner vanished without a trace.


	4. Victim

Stu dangled from his rope bound wrists, his shoulders taking most of the strain. They'd tied his wrists behind, hands palm to palm, then his arms had been yanked up behind him and fastened to something. The blindfold sealed his eyes closed again. He shifted around, desperately trying to ease the strain, his bound arms stretched behind him, his shoulders aching, he tried to slow his breathing, but the stress from the way he was tied, and the never ending ache in his wrists, forearms and shoulders was crippling, he was struggling.

Silence all around him, he strained to hear anything. This wasn't like the last time, he had a bad feeling about this. Footsteps approached him.

"Detective Sergeant Turner!" he could hear the gloating in her voice. "how good of you to join us."

He tried his best to get a grip on the situation, "If you let me go now.."

"Let you go... why would I do that?" she moved up close, her hand cupped his jaw, fingers pinching, holding him still, "you're the bait!"

"Bait? Who for?"

She slapped his left cheek, hard. He gasped at the shock, his cheek stung. "I ask the questions." Her voice was familiar, he turned over in his mind, he'd heard her before, he just had to remember where.

"Or I just decide when and where we hurt you." She pressed herself close to him, her finger over his lips. "So best be very quiet until we tell you." He shivered in spite of himself, she sounded well over the edge. She slapped his cheek again, viciously hard.

He heard the sounds of movement, and the sounds of something being set up. "Is it on?"

"Yes." a second voice, again a voice he recognised, but couldn't place.

A volley of slaps were unleashed on his left cheek, which was soon stinging viciously, he could feel his flesh being bruised. Being unable to see them coming he was unable to brace himself or prepare himself for what was coming. A different hand unleashed a vicious volley of slaps on his right cheek. He was really hurting now. His face stung, the pressure of the wrap over his eyes was giving him a headache, he longed to strip the thing away from his face, but couldn't. His arms and shoulders hurt like hell.

With a chill in his heart, he heard the commentary that she was clearly providing to some kind of recording device. Something cold and sharp touched his right cheek. He felt something trickle down and knew it was his blood, the voice in his ear _tell her you love her, tell Jo you need her. It was Jo they wanted, and they were going to use him to get to her, a memory of a text message pushed its way into his brain, he struggled to hold on to it, but the pain forced its way over the top of everything else._ Stu tried to resist, another volley of slaps were unleashed, this time both sides of his face, his cheeks were stinging, but he struggled to hold it together, to stay strong for Jo, she needed him to be strong.

"Jo, I love you." he gasped out, as a hand grasped his hair, holding his head still, yet another openhanded slap cracked across his sore left cheek, and his body jerked against the force of the blow, he couldn't suppress the yelp of pain as his arms and shoulders momentarily took the strain of his entire bodyweight, and the ropes pinning his arms behind him bit harder. A flash of realisation, that the ropes were dominating him, he had to put the stress of being tied like this out of his head. The Nietzsche quotation loomed large in his mind _whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger..._ he had no idea where that had come from, but he knew he had to get a grip. He began to time the distance between the slaps on his face, there was a pattern, if he could break it down into patterns, he could stay in the game. That way. He might just survive.

* * *

"Front desk says there's a package for you." Mickey turned to Jo as he put the phone down.

"Package?" Jo couldn't say why, but she had a bad feeling. She glanced around the room, "Where's Stuart?"

Mickey shrugged "he isn't in yet."

Jo nodded, and left the room, something was tugging at her memory again, vexed, she shook her head... _what is it?_ She walked down to the front desk and picked up the package. From the moment she touched it, she had an inkling that something was wrong.

* * *

Eddie slit the envelope open, and gently eased the contents out. Jo's hand flew to her mouth to contain her cry of fear, as Stuart's watch slithered out onto Eddie's desk.

"A handkerchief with blood on it, and a DVD." Eddie said quietly. He didn't comment about the watch, he knew Jo recognised it. He looked at her strained and frightened face and gently patted her hand.

* * *

Jo put the DVD in the player, and they crowded close to watch, Jack Meadows, the Superintendent, Neil Manson, Sam Nixon, Terry and Mickey, Eddie... and Jo. She watched, her eyes processing the images of what the two kidnappers were doing to Stuart, her brain in deep freeze. When one of the two masked figures took a handful of Stuart's hair and jerked his head back, the distorted voice was saying quite calmly "Fail to comply, I'll take away his sight permanently and he will be dumped a long way from here. Comply..." a knife was pressed to Stuart's cheek until the point drew blood, "we'll see?" as a hand casually wiped the blood away with a white handkerchief.

Jo couldn't help herself, a thin cry of distress wrung from her as they threatened him, tears ran silently down her cheeks as they replayed the dvd, listening to the instructions. She couldn't wipe that image from her head, her partner, blindfolded, helpless, the knife pressed against his face, the intent clear. That woman, and somehow Jo knew it was a woman, would blind him permanently, if they didn't comply. She couldn't think straight, all she could think of was look on Stu's face the last time she'd seen him, last night at the pub, the warmth in his beautiful expressive brown eyes... Jo choked.

_She loved him. Somewhere along the way, the lines had become blurred, and she'd fallen in love with the cocky, devious, arrogant young Sergeant, the how, why, where and when, didn't matter. Just the thought of what they were doing to him, she'd watched them slap him around, cut him, the dvd had begun with a close up of his wrists, tied brutally hard behind him, the flesh puffy and bruised, she could feel his pain..._

Sam leaned forward. "They've tied him like that to stress you as much as Stuart."

Jo nodded, "I know." She looked at Sam, "but it doesn't make it any easier. What if... what if ... we can't get to him in time, and they blind him." Her voice was shaking, but Jo dug deep, she would not let that happen. _Not to Stu. She couldn't begin to imagine what life would be like for him if he was blind._

Jo slammed the door on those thoughts... she couldn't see him like that... keeping him safe in her heart, that's what she needed to do. _Hang on Stu, we're coming._


	5. Realisation

Stu lay on his side on the cold hard floor and prayed with everything that he had that Jo would find him. Everything hurt. His cheeks were still stinging from the vicious slapping he'd received, the cut felt like someone had branded his face with a red hot poker. His hands were sore, he kept flexing his fingers, trying to keep his circulation going, his wrists were mashed together, and the ropes were biting into his skin. From the moment they'd freed him from whatever he had been tied to, and he had hoped for some respite from the pain, things had become much worse. They'd shoved him down to the floor, more rope had been produced from somewhere and they'd used it to bind his arms even more securely, forcing his elbows as close together as they could get them, ropes bit into his flesh, he moaned in pain as they tied him even more brutally hard than before. They'd then reinforced and secured the blindfold, he'd heard a sort of sticky ripping sound, he wondered if it was duct tape. He was using any trick he could think of to try to get away from the painful reality of his situation.

He lay as still as possible, and tried to work it out in his head. He'd come so far, if he really concentrated, he could push the pain and stress of being tied up like he was to the back of his mind and concentrate on who had him. It was the key to his survival, and Jo's. It was Jo they wanted. And he would do everything in his power, such as it was, to keep Jo safe. He replayed the voices in his head. One of them seemed particularly familiar. For some reason the Statham case sprang to mind. He re-ran it in his head. He'd heard that voice before.

A hand seized the rope between his elbows and he was hauled, with some effort, into a sitting position. She crouched down next to him. "Time for a drink I think, Sergeant Turner." A bottle was tilted to his lips and he swallowed, the water relieving his dry throat. He was being held leant against a female body. As he swallowed, he tried to calculate who it might be. Statham was the name playing in his head. Photographs sprang to mind. _What about photographs...? Something_. The hand pushed him sideways again, but was not strong enough to hold him and he banged his head on the floor, hard enough to see stars...

"Oops." she giggled. "Sorry hun." Sarcastic now.

_Hun. That was it. It was his and Jo's word. The word that had helped him find Jo. Rachel Inns._ He knew he was right. It should have been impossible. Rachel Inns had gone to prison on a manslaughter charge, with the caveat of diminished responsibility, but it should still have been impossible. He groaned, he was helpless, he could do nothing right now, but he knew who she was. Now he had to work out a way to use that knowledge.

* * *

Jo sat at her desk and worked her way slowly through her files. It was only now that she realised how much she had worked with Stu, and how long it had been since they'd worked together like that. And how much she missed working with him. The vision of the blood trickling down his face as that woman pierced his cheek with her knife was an image that Jo simply couldn't get rid of. The way the woman had casually wiped the blood away with the white handkerchief and then sent it to her. Stained with his blood. The message clear. Her Stu. He could be irritating, but he was like her annoying little brother, _no he's more than that and you know it._ And knowing that he was hurt and frightened and alone... She tried to drag her mind back from the terrible images. His watch lay on her desk, and she picked it up, stroking the back of the case, which rested against his skin. _Stu, hang on... please hun... just hang on._ On impulse she buckled his watch around her own wrist, above her own watch, it felt good to have something of him close to her. She would give it back to him when she saw him.

_Saw him_, her mind shied away from what they'd threatened to do to him. She would find him and he would be safe. That was how she could see him. Safe. His cocky smile, those beautiful brown eyes, which danced impishly when he was teasing her, like he had over Rachel Inns.

Rachel Inns. _Where did that name come from._ She rewound the clock over a year before. Something about this suggested Rachel Inns. Which made no sense. _And why does Tess keep coming into my head._

Jo thought about her former lover. Tess had left her when she was on secondment in Nottingham. It hadn't been the most friendly split, but somehow she was having trouble imagining Tess doing this. Why? _She didn't know Stu._ Jo cast her mind back to the year before. When Tess had suddenly reappeared and wanted to start over. Jo was in the middle of a case, and she'd given Tess short shrift. Tess had cause perhaps to feel resentful. _But Stu... she still didn't know him... _ Then with horror Jo realised that Tess probably did, or thought she did. _Wanted... that stupid tv show, that had made them all crazy. Stu... after keeping his career by the skin of his teeth, thanking her on live television... calling her his friend... Tess reading more into that than a statement of facts... Tess thinking Jo had given her the brush off because of a man?!_ Jo shied away from the thoughts that had been plaguing her since she found Stu on the boat. _Mind games... _and Tess was good at mind games. She enjoyed playing with other people's emotions, which was manipulative trait that Jo had disliked in her former lover. Over the last weeks of their relationship, Tess had become increasingly demanding, trying to play on Jo's emotions at a time when Jo needed her head in the game, so she had put some distance between them and Tess hadn't liked that.

From the moment Jo had found her partner bound and helpless on that boat, she'd sensed something familiar. Tess liked playing tie up games, in her darker moments Jo sometimes wondered if Tess had been with her because Jo carried a set of handcuffs around. _Shibari_, Tess had introduced Jo to that, but Jo hadn't liked all the spicy stuff, so she'd insisted that they put it away. Tess had been reluctant and a little resentful. Then the split... Now this.

With mounting horror Jo acknowledged the truth, that her former lover had her partner and thought nothing of hurting him. Knowing her, like Jo knew her, Tess wouldn't hesitate, she would blind Stu without a second thought. And Jo was not about to let that happen.

Neil and Jack heard her out in silence. Sam asked endless questions. Jo was starting to feel mildly irritated by Sam's constant questioning.

"With respect Guv, I know I'm right... my gut tells me that this is it!"

"I'd go along with Jo's gut." Neil's voice was quiet, but the pitch reverberated in the small room. Jo found herself thanking her lucky stars that Neil was there. An ally in her race to find Stu before a dreadful fate befell him.

* * *

Stu lay still on the cold hard floor and wondered how much longer he could cope, everywhere was pain, his trapped and pinched arms were agony, his bruised and cut face was still stinging, the rest of his body ached from being roughly manhandled, they'd even kicked him a couple of times. His head was begging Jo to find him and save him, his heart was begging her to keep away, that they would hurt her and he couldn't bear that. The struggle between these two emotions spilled over, tears leaked from beneath his sealed eyelids as distress overwhelmed him. The sob that escaped him loud and harsh in the cold confined space.


	6. Salvation

Jo gathered together everything she had from her days with Tess. Stu was depending on her, and she wanted him back safe. She ran through every possible location in her head, her mind kept wandering to the abandoned house that sparked all this off. That house meant something, she knew it.

* * *

He drifted in an out of semi consciousness, at times his mind sharp as a razor, recalling facts, details that could help him survive, at times the pain overwhelming him, an entity in its own right, holding him in thrall. His pinched and trapped arms were hurting from his finger tips to his shoulders, he moved his fingers continually, mechanically, working them, trying to keep his circulation going. Occasionally his two worlds would collide and the hopelessness and devastation of his situation would tear great wrenching sobs from deep within his soul, the tears forced out leaked beneath the enveloping layers of blindfold and streaked the dirt on his bruised cheeks, the salty water stinging in the cut on his right cheek.

Hands touched his body, different hands, gentle soothing hands, a voice... he knew that voice... for a moment he hardly dared to dream that it was true... he was safe. Hands stripped away the blindfold, and he was blinking at the sudden rush of light, Jo's face, Jo's hands struggling with the knots that bound him, then his arms were free. Stiff and sore they were, his returning circulation forcing moans of pain from his lips, he crawled into her lap and wrapped his sore, bruised arms around her waist, burying his face against her side.

Jo held him as he buried his face against her and wept. The tiny glimpse she'd had, his eyes seemed fine, unharmed, but she couldn't check the wound in his cheek as he resisted all attempts to turn his face so that she could get a closer look. He was frozen and shivering, and she accepted the blanket from Neil Manson, wrapping it gently round him, containing the storm as she stroked the back of his head. "Come on Stu... please..." In answer he burrowed closer and she held on.

He grew calmer, the stress and tension oozing out, as he relaxed, she persuaded him to turn over, catching her breath at the bruising on his face, the cut was deep, and she very carefully wiped the dirt away from it, he hissed at even that gentle touch. She gathered him close and he moaned and groaned at her touch... "take it easy..." he croaked, "that hurts."

"Well what doesn't hurt?"

He held up his left hand and waved his little finger at her. "That doesn't hurt." he croaked. Jo took his hand, and kissed his finger. He lay in her arms, the emotion laid bare on his face, less guarded than she had ever seen him, and she eased herself back against the wall, gathering him more firmly into her arms, his head resting against her shoulder. Despite his aches and pains, he cuddled closer.

Jo could hear the tramp of feet overhead as her colleagues ripped through the abandoned house like a perfect storm. She would take no further part, Stu needed her, and right then, she needed to be with him. Finding him had been a fluke. A lucky break when Jo had remembered that the abandoned house had a basement. They'd taken the chance that the most obvious place wouldn't be searched, and they had been so nearly right. A detached part of her brain wondered where Tess was, and her accomplice, they'd left Stu alone and helpless in the basement.

She looked down at her partner, he was drifting and for fourth time she wondered just where the ambulance was. His head was against her shoulder, the fingers of his left hand were gripping the open v of her shirt, his knuckles curled against her skin. She looked at his death grip on her shirt front and gently stroked his hair again, carefully tucked the blanket more securely round him. "Stu?"

He murmured something and burrowed closer, his grip on her shirt tighter. She very carefully hugged him to her "Stu, I'm not leaving you, I'm staying, hun. All the way." She could feel his tears soaking her shirt again, and she soothed him.

A tramp of feet on the stairs, and Neil stood there. "No sign. No information. Nothing." He looked at her, "they're still out there."

She nodded, "I know guv."

"How's Stuart?"

"Not very good. Where is that ambulance?"

As she spoke, the sound of voices at the top of the basement stairs, and feet coming down as the paramedics arrived.

* * *

Stu sat on the gurney in A&E and scowled darkly at the nurse, "I'm bruised all over, all I want to do is go home with DC Masters," he jerked his head in Jo's direction, "have a hot shower, something to eat and curl up and forget about this." He still felt weak, tired and disorientated, but he was getting out of there if he had to crawl. Apart from hospital food making the nick canteen's efforts look like Michelin starred cuisine, the smell always brought back bad memories. He was getting a headrush of images right now, which he couldn't control and couldn't cope with. He desperately wanted and needed out of there... he could deal with the images any day but today.

The nurse turned to Jo, who spread her hands wide, "leave me out of this". She stepped forward and stood in front of her partner, he was in a state, but she could see that stubborn light in his eyes, he was getting out of there whatever anyone had to say about it, something in that pleading gaze tugged at her heartstrings.

The nurse gave up. "On your own head be it."

Stu nodded, and slid off the gurney. He maintained a steely grip on the side as his knees threatened to buckle and dump him on his backside on the floor. Jo slid up against him and put her arm firmly round his waist. "Stu, this is a bad idea."

"I don't care." his voice wobbled, and he fought down the tears with a supreme effort. He really hated feeling like this, since Jo had found him he didn't seem to be able to stop crying, Jo looked across at the porter who had brought a wheelchair. Carefully, she encouraged him to sit in it, and kept hold of his hand. Stu clung to her hand, even as he was hating himself for showing dependency, burdening the only person who understood him and cared about him, yet further. They got to Jo's car, and he eased himself into the passenger seat, every inch of his bruised and battered body protesting, it would have been easier to have stayed in, but some things were just too much to cope with. He looked across at Jo, and acknowledged to himself that he was no longer alone in life, no longer just trying to fit in. Jo had given him that. He could feel the tightness in the back of his throat and pulled himself together with another enormous effort, Jo needed him and he couldn't just come to pieces when she needed him so badly.

* * *

Back at Jo's, he followed her upstairs to her ensuite. "Hot shower... you look like you need it." She gave him a quick hug, and in line with his new found resolve, he didn't just collapse like a house of cards, he held himself together and hugged her back.

"Thanks" he said, simply. _Thanks... a woefully inadequate word..._ He took the towels offered, and stripped off his shirt, awkwardly and not without pain in both shoulders. It would take some time for the physical effects of his experience to leave him. He looked in the mirror, they'd stitched his cheek and dressed the wound, he looked a mess, about as far from his usual assured, groomed self as it was possible to be. Something about the image of himself catapulted him back in time. He closed his eyes, and bent forward over the basin. He'd done what his father wanted, he'd shed the past, he'd gone on and made a success of his life, he had a good job, a career which he loved, but there was still something missing. He knew where the secret garden was, he even knew where the door was, he just didn't have the key to the kingdom. A kingdom he realised now that he really wanted into. A world which wasn't about surface and promotion and climbing the ladder. A world that had all the things he had lost along the way, and pretended to himself didn't really matter.

A world which scared him, but enthralled him at the same time.

He turned round, and reached in to turn on the shower. Getting his head back into the game was what mattered. He clamped down on his past, fighting the demons back into the shadows. He was DS Stuart Turner for god's sake. He hadn't made DS by being weak, and he wouldn't be able to protect Jo by being weak. He didn't want her pity, he wanted what he couldn't have, and the sooner he faced up to that the better. His right hand reached out and traced the old faded scar on the inside of his elbow.

"Stu?"

He snatched his hand back, and turned round. Realised with a blush that he was stark naked and Jo was standing in the doorway behind him. "Oops. Sorry." he flushed and grabbed a towel, preserving his modesty. Jo smiled at him, a friendly grin, and he relaxed.

"Razor? Thought you might like a shave?" She held it out, a packet she'd found from the last time she'd had a cousin stay with her for a few days. A handle, and a pack of blades, untouched, left over.

"Thanks." he held out his hand, and took the razor from her. Jo's eyes didn't miss a thing, she'd seen him at the sink, his body language distressed, she'd seen him trace the inside of his left elbow, and her curiosity was piqued. It was a small scar, old, faded, a hang over from his past, she guessed.

* * *

She was in the kitchen when he came downstairs, she heard him come in behind her, and turned around. He looked a lot better than he had twenty minutes ago, his hair washed, she didn't have any gel, so he'd just run his hands through it, and the result was softer and made him look younger, he'd shaved too, the bruises on his cheeks standing out against his olive skin, he looked relaxed and a bit less sore. "Better?" she said.

"Yes... thanks." He moved closer. "And thanks for this Jo... I..."

"I know" she said, quietly. Truth be told, she wanted him there with her. Right now being alone was something she didn't want to be. She continued with dinner, aware of him hovering close to her, she served it up and they carried their food through to the sitting room. On impulse Jo sat on the sofa, and patted the seat beside her. He didn't hesitate. Words between them unnecessary. Just the mere fact of each other's presence was reassurance enough. Reassurance that Jo realised, with a start, that she desperately needed.

Reluctant to revisit the horrors of the day for Stu, she replayed them quietly in her mind. Remembering the moment she'd entered that cold, abandoned basement and seen him lying on the floor. For a second she'd feared the worst, then he'd moved, ever so slightly and she had known he was still alive. Then the fear that made her hands tremble as she stripped away the blindfold, fear that they had taken his sight. Then the anger at the cruelty of how he was tied, the bruising on his arms. And then his distress as he'd burrowed against her, as though she was his only friend in the world, and how she needed him as much as he needed her.

Without a word they edged closer to each other, and Stu put an arm around Jo's shoulders, drawing her closer, his shoulder ached with every movement, but he didn't care, he needed the reassurance of Jo's presence. Worn out, they drifted together.

It was sound instinct which woke Jo, something was wrong. Very wrong. She could hear a crackling noise, which made no sense.

"Stu?" He was curled against her, his head on the big cushion next to hers. "Stu..." she gave him a push. He blinked at her.

"What..."

"I don't know... but something's wrong."

They were both on their feet, and Stu walked over to the door. Half a second before he put his hand on the handle, instinct made him pause, he reached out and touched the door with the back of his hand. It was hot. Then he noticed the smoke wafting beneath the door, at first wisps, then more...

"Fire." He looked across at Jo. Her face frozen in fear. The window was a no go, the drop to the ground to far, they had one choice, back through the kitchen, he moved over to the door to the kitchen, and touched that too. It was cold. Reaching out to grab Jo's hand, "we've got to get out of here." Jo was frozen in terror. He pulled his sleeve down and grabbed the handle, pulled the door open, smoke billowed into the room and they both coughed, there were flames in the hallway, and thick black smoke, he pulled Jo to him, and they stumbled into the kitchen, he swung round to kick the door shut, but there were flames licking at the door frame, he lashed out with his foot, and managed to kick it closed, Jo yelped in fear and he swung round, the back door mat was alight, the flames reaching up to catch the curtain over the backdoor, they were trapped. He grabbed the two teatowels, that was all there was. They were getting out of there right now or they were dead. He soaked the two teatowels in the sink. "Cover your face and hair." he almost threw her the teatowel, wrapping the other one around his hand and arm, he reached across the burning curtain to fumble the key undone, yanking at the door, they jumped over the burning mat then they were stumbling down the stairs into Jo's tiny garden, coughing and wheezing at the smoke. The teatowel and Stu's shirt sleeve in flames, Jo scooped a double handful of earth over his arm.

"Jeezus... Stu..." Jo held his arm, gently peeling the scorched remains of the teatowel and shirt sleeve back... looking at the angry blister that was forming on his forearm. There was the sound of breaking glass, and they scrambled away from the burning building. Mechanically she reached into her pocket and called the fire brigade.

They clung to each other, shivering. They'd survived that one by luck alone.


	7. A Place of Safety

They stood in the briefing room, Heaton, Jack Meadows and Neil Manson.

The large, weeping burn on Stu's arm had been dressed and bandaged, Jo was still shaking, and he had his arm around her. Ignoring the slightly amazed look from both his immediate superiors. Because he really didn't care. She had just been burnt out of her home, how exactly did they think she would feel?

Heaton was saying something. Stu tuned back in. And listened in disbelief.

"With respect sir, there's only one way out of this." he looked at Jo, willing her to agree with him. "We have to disappear until you catch them. We leave our mobiles here, and we go tonight. I know somewhere we can stay until it's safe to come back."

To his utter surprise, Heaton nodded in agreement. "Do you need help?"

"Just a lift to Stratford Station."

"Why Stratford...?"

"Huge, busy and confusing. Makes it easy for us to get lost."

Jack Meadows looked dubious. "You'll be on your own."

"I know guv, but if no one knows where we are, we'll be a lot safer. They've proved that they know where we both live, they've got to both of us at home, they know where we drink and the places we go to. There really isn't any choice."

Jo took a deep breath, and leaned into her partner slightly, "I don't like it guv, but Stuart's right, we have no other choice."

* * *

Neil drove them up to Stratford Station, Stu hastily bought tickets and they shot through the gates, running down the concourse, Stu pulled Jo up one of the flights of stairs, onto the platform, the DLR was about to depart, and they jumped on. Tension swept through both of them, neither wanted to sit down, adrenaline was still charging through their systems. Jo leaned her head against her partner's shoulder, it was eight pm, in one day her partner had been beaten almost to a pulp, she'd gone through the hellish distress of seeing him tortured and threatened, she'd found him, and then they had had to run for their lives to get out of her burning home. "Is there any more to come?" She looked up at him, voice trembling, "because I don't think I can take much more." He put his arm around her shoulders again, and rested his head against hers. "We've come this far, we can make it." The bouncing train rattled into the station, and he pulled her close. "We get out here." Jo followed, he was battered and bruised, and after the day's events, he must have been even more exhausted than she was, but somehow he seemed to have found a second wind, so she let him take charge.

Stu gently pulled her after him, down the stairs, through the maze of shops and out into Canada Square itself, down the escalators to the underground platform. Jo followed him blindly, letting him make the decisions, she was aware that at some level she ought to be having a say in what was going on, but she was trusting him. They zigzagged across London, until finally he drew her out of the underground system into the frosty night air, he hailed a cab, and gave the cab an address. They pulled up outside a hotel, and Jo thought they were finally going inside, but Stu pulled her after him, they rounded a corner, crossed a road, outside another hotel, where he hailed another cab.

Sitting in the cab, Jo began to shiver in earnest, it was very late, Stu pulled her back against him "are you okay?"

She nodded, rubbing her forearms with her hands, idly wondering what time it was, and realising as her left hand touched her right wrist that she was still wearing the two watches. Even though he was there, beside her, safe if a bit battered and bloodied, she felt a strange reluctance to give it back, it felt reassuring around her wrist, her link to him.

The taxi pulled up in a street, and Stu paid the driver, while Jo stood on the pavement, looking up at the row of Georgian houses, and wondering where on earth they were. There was no hotel that she could see. Stu took her hand. "Just round the corner." She looked at him questioningly. "I thought you said it was a hotel you had in mind."

"That's what I told them." he looked at her sideways. "We've been jumping in and out of the frying pan for more than a week now, I didn't want to take a chance." He looked at her. "No one knows about this place, and no one knows my connection to it, either."

He was looking at her surprisingly intently, and she was too tired and overwrought, she was having difficulty processing why. "What's the big mystery?" She followed him round the corner, there was a small mews on the other side of the road, and he drew her across the road. He headed straight to the end of the mews, and a front door. He pressed the bell. There was a sound of footsteps, and Jo had just enough time to read the name on the little card next to the bell push when the door was opened. An elderly woman, immaculately dressed, stood in the doorway. "Stuart!" She reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned with some fervour. "Tante Caro". He said something in a language that Jo barely recognised as French, and was startled to find herself swept up into a hug by the elderly woman. They were inside the house and halfway up the stairs before Stu could make the introductions properly.

"Tante Caro, this is my partner, Detective Constable Joanne Masters," Jo smiled, feeling a bit confused, "Jo, this is my great aunt Carola Czerda..."

Something about that name rang bells in Jo's head, she couldn't think why, and while she was trying to sort out the details in her mind, they arrived at the top of the stairs into a comfortable and cosy sitting room. "Poor child, you must be very tired and hungry," Stu's great aunt was saying, and Jo went along with whatever was being said and done, too tired to think straight, the stress of the day overwhelming her like the waves of the sea. She found herself sat at a table, a substantial plate of some kind of stew in front of her, perfectly certain that she wouldn't be able to eat a bite because it was so late, Jo made the attempt, and suddenly the plate was clean. "That was delicious, thank you." She felt disconnected, as though she was seeing herself from an out of body experience. Stu's hand tugged her to her feet, and she followed him, the images processing slowly in her mind like an old eight milimetre movie run at half speed.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of birdsong, and warm sunlight filtering through a gap in the curtains. She was naked beneath the covers of a soft and comfortable bed. She was just processing this information through her mind and wondering who it was that undressed her, when she became aware of the breathing. It was close, she turned her head. He was next to her, fully clothed, lying on top of the covers, fast asleep. She took a moment to study him as he slept, he was sprawled on his front, totally relaxed in sleep, and she decided to leave him to it. He'd had enough stress in the last twenty four hours, and he needed the sleep.

Her clothes were clean and neatly pressed and folded, on a chair next to the bed, together with a pretty kimono robe. Shunning her clothes, because she didn't feel quite ready to return to the land of the fully living, Jo put on the robe, and tied it firmly. It fit her well, the pretty turquoise and russet pattern doing wonders for her complexion and even matching her eyes. She smiled slightly. Not that she felt much like smiling. Her home was burnt and she and Stu were on the run from an evil chasing them.

Jo opened the bedroom door and blinked slightly the sudden rush of sunlight in the hall was more aggressive than the soft filtered version in the bedroom. She pulled the door to behind her and moved along the corridor back towards the lounge. She passed a painting hanging on the wall, and paused to admire it, the beautiful sundrenched scene, the colours... and suddenly she realised where she had heard the name Czerda before. The artist. Stuart's great aunt was a well known artist. Intrigued, she wandered along into the lounge. More paintings, she could hear someone moving around in the kitchen and she headed towards the noise.

"Good morning." Stuart's great aunt turned around.

"Oh my dear, you're up. That's good. Breakfast."

Jo found that she was very hungry, having been quite sure that she couldn't eat a thing. "Yes, please."

"Well have a seat."

Jo sat down at the table, and took in her surroundings. The kitchen was decorated in bright and pretty colours and reminded Jo of France, though she couldn't quite say why. There was a painting above the kitchen table, a boy and a dog, sprawled idly on an old sunlounger, half in sun half in shade, it came as a bit of a shock as she recognised her partner. Had Stuart ever looked like that, really happy, that relaxed? She studied him closely, he couldn't have been more than 12 or 13, his arm around the dog's neck, both of them totally confident that they were not going to be asked to move.

"That's my Stuart..." Jo looked up, Carola Czerda had a half smile on her face, curiously like her great nephew's, "that last summer." Jo sensed some sadness, "last summer?"

"Before his mother left. My poor Stuart." Carola seemed far away, Jo felt slightly uneasy, almost guilty, in stirring up the past. "I'm sorry." she said.

"Sorry?" Carola smiled gently. "It was all so long ago. He's a man now."

"But it's affected him, hasn't it?"

"Yes. She left, and he changed. He had no choice, his father saw to that."

"In what way?" Jo didn't mean to pry, but this was a key to her partner, a clue to who he was now.

"His father wanted a proper Englishman, not a half gypsy. He decided that Stuart should spend less time with us and his mother's family. So he raised a proper Englishman, Stuart has become a success."

"But he's not happy." Jo couldn't say why she knew this, because outwardly Stuart seemed content with his life.

"He's successful." there was a dryness in the older woman's tone which made Jo glance sideways at her, "he became what his father wanted him to be."

A sound behind them, and both women looked towards the doorway. Stuart stood there. "Gossiping about me already?" He was still wearing his jeans, but the shirt had gone, and he was barefoot. He kissed his great aunt gently on the cheek, and sat down opposite Jo.

She looked at him closely, because the light tone in his voice did not match the flash of something in his eyes as he caught them discussing his past. The man sitting opposite her and the boy in the painting were from different worlds, but they were one and the same. Jo looked into the eyes of the man, and for the first time wondered about the boy. Who was Stuart really? There had to be something of the boy in that picture, still, somewhere deep inside. Intrigued, she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Carola served breakfast and urged them to eat. Jo downed the croissants, and ham and cheese, and juice and coffee until she was certain she couldn't move from the spot let alone take another bite. She watched Stu shovelling happily, his momentary discomfort at being discussed forgotten, and she watched him interact with his great aunt. This wasn't the cocky, slightly detached, metrosexual cop she was used to, this was the teenage boy who still had the whole world before him, he slipped naturally back into the language he had clearly spoken from birth with his mother and the family. Jo pondered as she ate. She understood that it was French, but the accent was strong and she didn't really understand any of what he said to his great aunt. She thought about how different he was with his great aunt, how much more relaxed. He didn't have anything to prove, he was secure, _he knows he's loved._ She realised that she preferred this version to the cop, _now to find the key to unlock the man he truly is_.

_More practical matters first. _She looked down at the bandage around Stuart's arm. "We need to change the dressing on that."

"I know." He didn't look to happy at that. "Later."

Jo got to her feet, "no, I'll clear and then we'll take a look at that." When they'd treated his arm at St Hugh's, he'd been given a bag full of supplies to change the dressings with.

"Don't fuss."

Jo's lower lip trembled for a second, as the horror of the night before resurfaced. "If it hadn't been for you, we would both have died. I'm entitled to fuss."

"I know... I know..." he looked ashamed for a moment... "I didn't mean..."

_I know... I know you don't mean to... but you do... anyway..._ It was that side to his adult personality which bugged her. The attitude thing. When she had first worked with Stuart, she hadn't been sure if she could do it. Everything was attitude. The things he said. His body language. The way he behaved. Then came the Statham case, and gradually as it cracked wide open, she had found a way through. She could work with him. Then when she had been trapped by Rachel Inns, it was Stuart who had toughed it out, Stuart who had persisted, pushed the DI, got up people's noses, snapped at people. She hadn't known he cared. Then as time had gone on, they'd gelled. She had got to know him, or thought she had, he'd stopped pulling some of the strokes that he pulled with the others without a second thought, because it was her.

Now they were running for their lives together. She looked back over the last six months, and the subtle change in the office dynamics and she realised that she missed the closeness that they had shared. That in many ways, Stuart had almost reverted to his bad old self. The syringe incident had taken the wind out of his sails, and he could have died. Being brought slap up against his own mortality had shaken him. He'd bounced back from there, but it seemed as though the rebound was too severe, he was overcompensating for his months of fear. His old insecurities were resurfacing.

She finished helping Carola clear up, and turned her attention to the burn on Stuart's arm. "Come on." Reluctantly, he held his arm out, and Jo stripped away the bandage. The dressing was sticky and she carefully peeled it up. The burn was nasty, a large, weeping blister almost four inches long by nearly three wide. "Jeez, Stu... why didn't you say something?"

He looked sideways, away from her, and she could sense his tension. He mumbled something.

"Pardon?"

"I didn't want to add to your worries." his voice was so quiet she could scarcely hear him. She bent over the wound, carefully cleaning it and dressing it. He flinched a couple of times, but when she looked up, he had the strangest look on his face.


	8. Night Terrors

The day went by, they were both restless, stressed, confused. Jo found she couldn't relax, even after a long hot bath. As day turned to night they were both going through the motions, the trauma of the previous twenty four hours too sharp.

It was one in the morning. He couldn't sleep. Lying on top of the covers, so close, yet so far from the woman of his dreams. Images whirling constantly in his head. The pains in his battered and abused body, mixing with images of the fire, the smoke, the flames... his mother... his mother was calling him... _Maman..._ He awoke with a jerk. His breathing harsh, coming in snatches.

Carefully, he pushed himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom. He ran some water into the basin, and splashed some of it onto his face, it didn't help. He looked up into the mirror, seeing himself... hating himself... he was a burden... he couldn't keep the people he loved...

That tiny voice in his head. A tiny little sound, a siren call, cracked and old but still there. _You want to, you will feel better, you deserve it..._ He stared at his face in the mirror, reaching out to open the bathroom cabinet, the old fashioned razor was still there. A packet of blades. He picked it up. Pulled out a blade. A detached part of his mind wondered just what he was doing.

His mind traced his movements, feeling its way through the past, picking over the bones, the crackle of the waxy paper, the feel of the old fashioned steel blade between his fingers, he looked at himself in the mirror seeing himself as a child, the images of Jo and his mother mixed up in his head. His eyes burned fiercely as he fought down the tears...

Alone

Alone

Alone

Alone

It was in his head, scraping away at his mind like claws, it was engraved on his heart...

The blade trembled between his shaking fingers, as he watched himself intently in the mirror, wanting to see that instant of pain, as he traced the inside of his left arm and the blade sliced into his flesh.

"Stuart!" He heard a shocked gasp behind him, and his eyes turned to see the reflection of the woman standing in the doorway.

Jo moved swiftly forward. "Stuart... oh my god... what are you doing?" She reached his side, grabbing his wrists, turning him to face her, pulling his hands upwards, towards her. "Stu..." she stared in horror at the blade in his hand, and the cut on the inside of his arm. Then she realised that there were more scars, old, very faded, scarcely visible, unless you were actually looking for them, and realised that this was not the first time he had done this thing.

She searched his face, his eyes looked empty... as though all the emotion had drained out... carefully she pried the razor blade from his unresisting fingers and dropped it in the basin. He let her bathe the cut, dress it, she had a firm grasp around his wrist and he followed her when she pulled him back towards the bedroom. He seemed to have no will left, all the fight ripped out of him.

Jo lifted the covers and slid into bed, moving over, holding the covers up, inviting him to get in beside her. The lost look in his eyes worried her. Obediently, he got in beside her, and she pulled the covers around him. Her hand closed over his, and he stiffened. She looked at his rigid body, lying on his side, facing her, staring at her almost without recognition, and realised that she was seeing inside for the very first time. And that she was the first one he had ever let this close to him. She had found a key to the real Stuart. And he was scared of that.

She inched closer to him, the frozen look on his face changed, and he burrowed against her. He was shivering, and she slipped her arms around his neck, holding him as close as she could. He muttered something she didn't understand, but she held on anyway, certain that she needed him as much as he needed her. The last twenty four hours finally took their toll, and she wept. Uncertain exactly who was holding on to who, Jo buried her face against his shoulder and let go.

She awoke to sunlight again. The soft, warming glow filtering below and between the curtains, it cut across the bed between them. She looked across at her sleeping partner, noting the marks that this case had left on his body, the bruises, the cuts, the scrape marks... he was lying on his right side facing her, his burnt right arm folded up across his chest, the hand resting against his left shoulder, the whiteness of the bandage covering his forearm from wrist to elbow a flagrant reminder of how close they had both come to death. His left arm was stretched out, the fingers of his hand curled limply around her wrist, as though trying to reassure himself that she was still there. Even in sleep, he didn't look relaxed, there was a slight frown on his face, and Jo very carefully eased a little closer. He shifted, and reached out to pull her close against him.

He was strong, his muscular arm was holding her against him and just how fragile she felt came as something of a surprise. It wasn't the first time that Stu had put an arm around her, but this time was different. Jo couldn't explain why or how it was different, it just was. It was a voyage of discovery. She was fond of Stuart, she knew that, it took this case to show her the truth, that somehow he had sneaked beneath her defences into a corner of her heart. She had watched them terrorising him and hurting him and she had felt grief and fear, terror that she would lose him without having the chance to tell him what he meant to her. Then, last night, the glimpse into his lonely world, where he felt the need to punish himself for being alone, that was a terrible revelation. She knew he struggled with the intimacy of relationships, that his relationship with Sam had started out casual, and it's rapid decline had panicked him into making all sorts of mistakes; she knew he armour plated himself with the veneer of shallowness that had seen him rejected time and time again.

He moved again, settling her closer. He moved his right arm up across the pillow, and his lips brushed her forehead. Jo tilted her head back, uncertain of where this might be going, but not wanting to end it. His lashes lifted, and twin pinpricks of brown looked down into her eyes. Impulsively she leaned a little closer, as he bent his head and kissed her.

As his lips brushed hers, Jo realised that she wanted this, whatever would come between them, right here, right now was their time. She leaned into his kiss and opened her mouth, tentatively his tongue explored and she returned the favour. Her hands slid round his neck, as he rolled, lifting her against him, taking her full weight with ease.


	9. Daydreams

Jo lay in Stu's arms, and idly stroked the back of his neck with her knuckles. They lay huddled together, reluctant to let go. The emotions of their lovemaking hadn't quite caught up with the physical reality. Jo rested her chin on the top of his head, as his lips nuzzled her neck. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist, his full length pressed against her body. He felt solid, heavy and very masculine, something Jo had never imagined she would want to experience. Yet she had given herself willingly, and he had held nothing back.

His dreams had come true...... he couldn't let go...... because he didn't want to lose the feeling. Stu ignored the pain of their combined weights pressing his burnt arm into the mattress and concentrated on holding Jo as close as he could get her. Perhaps he could freeze frame this into his memory so deeply it would be with him always. It was a moment of revelation for both of them, a hallelujah.... the revelation which showed him what he really wanted, and that was Jo by his side for the rest of their lives..... having lived the dream he wanted it forever...... and if he couldn't have that, he wanted whatever Jo was willing to give.

Sun Hill was a different world. Reluctantly he thought about what he'd promised his senior officer. They had been out of touch for almost thirty six hours and he needed to do something about that.

"I have to call Neil." he muttered, though that meant getting up, and he was certain he didn't want to do that.

"You do."

"You don't have to agree with me."

"I know. But we have to face facts."

He closed his eyes and nuzzled her neck again, facts were things he didn't want to have to face. He wanted to stay like this forever, cuddled up to the one woman who held his heart gently in her hands and didn't crush it. Jo pressed her lips to his forehead, "Stu," she whispered "we have to move." He made a negative noise and burrowed down, his cheek resting against her shoulder, his face buried in the side of her neck..... "Now"

He made another negative noise, he was warm and comfortable, the pain in his arm had settled down to a steady throb and the thought of moving from the little slice of heaven he had found for himself was really too much.

Jo sighed. She really didn't fancy moving herself, it felt surprisingly good to be cuddled up to Stu, she didn't want to let go either.

_Another half hour_ Stu processed that thought, and snuggled even closer with a contented sigh. Just the act of getting up was going to be too much. Vaguely he wondered if he could successfully fake some dreaded lurgy so that he could stay in bed like this forever. He relaxed and let himself drift.

Jo lay still, her arms around his neck, listening to him breathe....... until she realised that he was snoring. "Stu......" she cautiously poked him, "oh no you don't..." she poked him a little harder, he twitched slightly, like a horse getting rid of a fly. She sighed. Short of being really rough with him, she had little chance of waking him. Given the experience he had been through, the evidence of which was still all over his body, she let him sleep. She eased backwards carefully, "that's all right, you stay there...... I'll ring Neil." He grunted slightly as she pulled free, and then settled into the warm space she had left. A smile on his face.

She tucked the covers around him, and bent to drop a kiss on his head. And sighed. _Give Stu an inch, he takes a mile._ She slipped quietly from the room and went in search of the phone.

Neil Manson put the phone down and stared at it for a moment. Jo and Stuart were safe for the time being. Which helped. But CID were no closer to catching the two women, than when this all started. No clues, no leads, they appeared to be able to appear and disappear at will. He hoped and prayed that they would get a break soon, before anyone else got hurt.

Jo loaded up the lunch tray and headed back to the bedroom. Stu was lying almost exactly where she had left him, cuddled into the warm space that she had vacated, fast asleep, still with a smile on his face. She parked the tray on the bedside table, and slid back into bed next to him. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, she was almost loathe to wake him.

"Stu...." she shook him gently....... he made a quiet grumbly noise and shifted slightly.

This called for something a little sneakier. She put the tray down on the bedside table, and lifted the covers, sliding back into bed next to him. His inbuilt Jo radar made him snuggle closer. Jo picked up the sandwich, home made bread, lovely fresh ingredients, she sniffed appreciatively, it smelt really good. As he burrowed in next to her, she waved the sandwich just under his nose.

Stu was certain he could smell food, and his stomach was rumbling at the thought. He peeled open an eyelid and focussed on the sandwich being wafted around, his brain processed the aroma of home made bread and he opened his eyes and made a grab for the sandwich. It was whisked just out of his reach, a hair's breadth before his fingers closed over it. "Sit up." Jo was looking at him with that fierce look again.

He made a grouchy noise, and levered himself up into a sitting position. Rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand and blinked a few times. "I've got to call Neil."

"I did that already." She handed him a sandwich and he demolished half of it in one bite, and eased back down again on his side, and pulled Jo closer.

"So we don't have anything else to do today..."

Jo pursed her lips slightly at the suggestive gleam in his eyes. Unlikely lovers they now were, but that smelt a little like taking her for granted, and she wasn't having that. He grinned, and lay back, nibbling at the remains of the sandwich in his hand, the look in his eyes indiscreet. Jo huffed a little, Stuart in a teasing mood was hard to be cross with, particularly when he did that thing with his tongue......_damn it... I am not going to be suckered in just because he's chosen this moment to be cute..._

Stu polished off the sandwich and lay there watching her, taking in the fall of chestnut hair, the way her odd coloured eyes sparked when he teased, the smile on her face as she was amused by his teasing and trying hard not to be....

"Another sandwich...?"

He nodded, she handed it over, and this time he bit into it more slowly, savouring the contents..... at peace with the world. They were running away, but they were both safe for now, and he could pretend. He liked it like this. Safe, their own little private slice of heaven. His great aunt was on her way back to Marseilles, and they had the run of the place to themselves.

Jo settled back next to him, and pondered her next move, she wanted to get to the bottom of what had made him do what he'd done the night before. She'd seen the small faded marks on the inside of his left elbow, and she knew that he'd done it before. That was one thing that she'd never expected, that cocky, arrogant, super cool metrosexual Stuart had self harmed in the past. She wondered if that was key to the front that he showed the world.

"Stu?"

He moved down slightly, lowered his eyes. "I know" he said, "I owe you some sort of explanation for.......... that!" his eyes skittered sideways in the direction of his elbow and then past, as though he didn't want to admit it to himself.

Jo looked at him. "How did it start?" She said simply.

"I...." he looked down, away from her. "I was fourteen..... my mother had gone....." he looked up again, a confused look in his dark eyes, "and I thought..... I thought if I could...." he tailed off, the confusion and pain evident in his voice.

"You thought that if you punished yourself, somehow that would make her come back." Jo finished quietly, gently taking his hand in hers.

He looked up at her and nodded. Jo slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. "And last night....?" she prompted tentatively.

"Last night...." he evaded her gaze again.

Jo waited.

Suddenly he turned, slid his arms around her and lifted her down onto his eye level. She looked into his anxious face, he studied hers. "Last night, I did something that I haven't done in nearly twenty years because I wanted the woman in my heart so badly.......and I thought there was no way she could or would ever want me."

Jo looked at him in wonder, and a little confusion.

"Stuart....."

"Jo....I know I've done almost everything all wrong since the day we met......"

Her breathing seemed to come to a stop.

"Stuart.....what are you trying to say?"

"I.........." he gathered her closer, they were almost nose to nose "I love you, Jo."

Jo looked into his eyes, and read between the lines. "Oh Stuart." She wrapped her arms around his neck, as he captured her lips with his.


End file.
